


To Live

by terfa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Master of Death Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terfa/pseuds/terfa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't stand what his world had become so tried to leave. Unfortunately things are never that simple when it comes to him. Stuck in a different world with a mantle that no one would want, he carries on, hoping that it gets better as it certainly couldn't get worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He was so lonely.

The whole point of using the Veil was so that he could once again be with his family, or at least achieve a final end.

It was just another chapter in his life that something would once again be denied to him. Though he supposed that this shouldn’t have been such a surprise, none of the methods he had tried before had worked, so why did he think that this one would?

His childhood bereft of anything resembling care or love. The ‘adventures’ he went through to survive in a place meant to be a safe haven from said childhood. Two opposing figures of power after him for their own ends; one to rid themselves of their downfall, another to boost their own power.

He survived.

It seemed that all he did was survive.

As one nemesis was taken down, the other seized their chance. Lies were exposed. Their faked death revealed to boost the morale of the people and while surprised, he was gladly forgotten.

He grieved for the fallen, his chosen family, his friends and those caught in the struggle.

He took a breath of free air, _‘This was his chance’_ , he thought. He could finally start to live.

The people rebuilt and settled, but things didn’t change. The war was fought and won, but a tyrant still existed.

The hate wasn’t resolved. Death and torture still ran rampant.

It was now those of the ‘Light’ who attacked.

He turned to his friends, unable to understand how this came to be, and found none.

His remaining family was kept from him, to keep the babe safe. It was inferred that it was from him.

His mentor, the one he looked up to, the one he repeatedly forgave, turned against him.

He was too powerful, too independent, cared too much.

He tried to help, and was branded a traitor; the public reviled him, the new pinnacle of all that is evil.

The first end came from his first friend whilst smuggling a family out of the country, seeing the flash of green as he fell off the cliff.

He woke on a beach. A thought went to a certain three artefacts but was discarded. After all, it was not the first time that the curse failed on him.

The years went by. He no longer lived in the country of his birth, but still they hunted.

Attempted muggings by oddly dressed strangers.

Food poisoning, found to be basilisk venom induced.

Waking after being burned alive in a safe house cemented his growing suspicions. It had been eight years and he had not aged. He could no longer attribute this to ageing gracefully. He knew the stories were true. Understood why his mentor chased him with such fervour.

He no longer wished to survive.

But they kept bringing him back.

Unable to bring himself to empower the new evil plaguing his home, he tried to destroy the items.

Gifting the cloak to a passing child solved nothing, it returned as he woke.

He searched, alone, remembering fond times and found what he believed to be his solution.

He travelled back to his country, familiar and confidant in his power which had only grown from the end of the war.

Finally stood before what he thought to be his freedom he thought back, back to the good times, back to where, for a time, he _lived_.

Aching with memories he took a step forwards, a stone clasped the cloak about his neck, a wand secured to his side.

Walking into the darkness he felt relief. Losing consciousness he felt himself smile.

He woke in a cave. Sitting up he looked around and saw no one.

There was no family to greet him, he survived still.


	2. Chapter 1

The first thing that Harry saw when he opened his eyes happened to be a high ceiling filled with stalactites. He sat up, hope in his heart that maybe he could see his parents, that _finally_ he was free. All he saw was that he was sat at a wall in a cave, a large pool to his side.

He closed his eyes again, drawing his knees up and hugging them, letting out a weary sigh.

Of course it wouldn’t have worked. What was he thinking, he’s Harry Potter, the one who lived to have all things go wrong.

For what felt like an age, he sat, not thinking, trying to accept that death had still not been reached. For surely, even if he were to be damned, there would be someone else here with him, he wouldn’t be alone?

Sick of his attitude of wallowing in his woes, he stood up, ready to face this new occurrence, hoping that maybe he could now live. As he did so, he felt his cloak move forwards and glanced down to avoid treading on it before freezing in shock. It had changed. Instead of the shimmering mix of colours that he was used to, it now resembled a cloth spun from shadows and smoke.

Harry couldn’t understand how this had happened. Why would the cloak have changed? Did it have something to do with the Veil of Death? Suddenly struck by a mix of irrational fear and curiosity, he walked over to the pool. Knowing his luck, something about his appearance would have drastically changed too.

In a strange stroke of fortune he didn’t actually look too different. He was still pale with black hair and green eyes, he still had his face. The differences however, seemed to be more along the lines of the shades. His eyes fairly shone with power, glowing out in a brilliant shade of emerald. His hair, still as messy as ever, looked to be made of darkness. Looking at his skin he saw that it was unblemished, all of his scars gone, leaving behind a paleness lightly dusted in grey.

After noting these changes, Harry saw that it wasn’t just his cloak that had been changed. He was no longer wearing his shabby jeans and shirt combo but showed a smart figure cut in black dress shirt, trousers and shoes along with a tie of dark grey.

Confused as to why his clothes would have changed Harry was caught off guard when the pool rippled suddenly, as if a stone had dropped into the centre, and a large image of the full moon replaced his reflection.

After a brief moment of staring at the water flabbergasted, Harry looked at the ceiling. There was nothing but rock above the pool. How on earth did the image change as it had?

_Traveller._

Shocked, Harry quickly looked up from the image, glancing about himself to see where the voice had come from. The words seemed to echo within his head.

_I am Tsar Lunar._

Baffled at the fact that the words seemed to be thought at him from the image of the moon, he hesitantly waved at it.

“I’m Harry?”

_You reek of death. What do you wish upon this world?_

Getting the feeling that Tsar Lunar was getting hostile, Harry decided to actually think before speaking for once. What did he want?

“N-nothing...I left my world as I had no purpose. I wanted the end.”

After a long moment, the moon seemed to shine even brighter, causing him to shade his eyes. It felt like his very being had been exposed. There was pause before a rush travelled through him from the light, it felt like he had been filled with something, there was a click in his mind. As the feeling settled, the light began to dim and he lowered his hand, feeling that something had been decided and that he had been changed in some way.

_I shall give you a purpose, Death’s Master._

To begin with, Harry’s hopes had been lifted, but they were soon crushed once his title had been revealed. He wished to escape all the death. He accepted that death was inevitable and a natural end to life, but that did not mean that he wished to be around it constantly.

_Do not worry. You do not control or cause death. You will aid in the crossing, from this world to the next. Bring comfort to the ones who pass and those who are left behind. Help them to not be afraid._

_Goodbye Harry Peverell, Master of Death._

As the words faded from his mind, the pool once again rippled and the moon disappeared, leaving behind his reflection once again.

His thoughts were in turmoil. He didn’t want this purpose. To deal with the grief that death brings, and there would be grief. It would not only be from whatever loved ones that would be left but also from him, he would not be able to separate himself from the circumstances, he still cared too much.

A headache began to build. His heart was heavy with the burden of his new purpose. As his sadness increased, so too did the headache. Wincing, he put a hand to his head, trying to relieve himself of the ache with some of his magic, only to find that he couldn’t. His wandless magic did not respond, in fact, his magic felt to have been changed to something completely different.

As he threw himself further into panic, the pain in his head grew and the new magic that filled him seemed to rise up. Unable to control what was going on the magic burst out as the pain reached a crescendo. Screaming out in pain from the magic rushing through him he collapsed. Once again losing consciousness. 


	3. Chapter 2

He was being called; he could feel a pulling in his mind. There was an urgent need in his magic, tugging at him to go and fulfil it. Still groggy and disoriented from losing consciousness a second time, Harry absentmindedly reached into his magic and let it do as it wished, trying to shut it up.

As he was suddenly falling through the floor, Harry quickly realised that he really should be alert for whatever was going to be on the other side. Adrenaline rushed through him as he tried to get ready during his split second of travel. He didn’t expect to be spat out in an old wooden hut and become intimate with the floor.

He lay there a moment, really fed up with his lot in life at the moment, only to rush to his feet as the rumble of a voice reached his ear. Glancing round the sparsely furnished hut, he looked to a corner where the other two occupants of the hut were

As he stood frozen in the middle of the room, he took notice of the scene, one of which he knew the ending of.

There at the side of the bed was a husband staring lovingly at his sickly wife lying on said bed, a hand clasped together with the other.

The ice cold feeling of dread gripped his heart as he remembered what the moon had told him.

_‘I shall give you a purpose, Death’s Master’_

A slight nudge of his magic made him walk closer to the bed.

His heart ached as he looked on at the couple, seeing the endless love that they had for each other in their eyes. Ache for the loss that he felt was coming very soon. Ache that he never had a similar experience.

He felt the ache grow as he saw the woman close her eyes and slow her breathing. It grew until he felt that he would burst with the feeling. His magic seemed to agree as it also built before releasing in a small burst towards the couple.

Baffled and worried that he had done something untoward, Harry quickly reached out with his magic to understand what had just happened.

The strand of magic split was heading towards the woman on the bed. As she breathed in for the last time, the magic entered with the air. When she breathed out again Harry could see that his magic had mixed with something and had come out with the exhale. Watching, with no little amount of awe, the magic mixed with what he thought to be the soul and twisted until there was a vibrantly coloured butterfly fluttering above the bed.

The man in the chair took notice that his love was no longer with him and started to weep. Slow tears fell down his face as he stared at his wife’s face.

Noticing that his magic was still active, Harry turned his attention to the soul butterfly and saw the colours dim slightly as it shook some sort of shimmering dust onto the man. As he saw the magic enter the man, he noticed that even though the colours of the butterfly had dulled slightly, it still shone with light.

Harry stood there for a while longer watching the man cry. He then noticed that the man had started to smile softly as his eyes sparkled with colour that seemed to have been left from the butterfly. The tears falling grew in number and sobs began to wrack his body.

Slowly, Harry began to understand what he had seen happening. He was watching someone understand that they had lost someone precious, enabling them to grieve and knowing that the one they had lost had loved them. The last gift from the dead soul.

Unable to stay and watch the man grieve, Harry fled, feeling that the tugging on his magic was gone.

As he arrived back at the cave he had found himself in he saw the soul butterfly materialise in front of him a few seconds later and start fluttering about the cave. Slightly baffled as to why it had followed him back to the cave, he watched it fly for a bit. Lost in a bit of a daze, he was taken unaware when the tugging/nagging/need in his magic hit him with a vengeance.

Instead of the single direction it had pulled him earlier, it felt like it was being targeted in multiple places and magnified in strength.

In pain and unable to move with the intensity and amount of calls being sent to his brain, Harry gave a tremendous shove with his magic, trying to solve the problem in the way that you hit the TV to make it work.

As the pain/need faded, Harry looked up from the crouch he had fallen in to see that his cave was now filled with thousands of ghostly drawn butterflies, and that they were disappearing in a steady stream.

He looked around at the butterfly filled cave and wondered why none of them had any colour. Just as this thought ran through his mind, coloured butterflies of various hues and brightness started to appear, fluttering about and mixing with the ghostly empty ones still in the cave. Watching, Harry could see that a pattern started to emerge. It seemed like the coloured butterflies tended to fly as high as possible, lighting up the ceiling in the far distance with their light, before congregating to the space above the pool which they would then dive into after an unspecified amount of time. The colourless ones seemed to just mill about all over the place, they didn’t have the energy of the coloured ones and looked to drift aimlessly before disappearing. He assumed that they had gone off to collect the dead souls.

Even as he stared at his now butterfly filled cave, Harry could feel a small buzzing in his mind. It told him where each butterfly was needed and whether or not one had been sent. Another part told him the progress of the collected souls and if they reached the cave. He could feel every impeding death and the time he had before needing to send a butterfly.

Sighing, Harry glanced about the cave again. He needed to set up a more reliable system. He just knew he was going to screw something up or that at the very least, something will go wrong.


	4. Chapter 3

As time went on, Harry grew more content with his purpose though he still ached in sympathy when he needed to go out and do the job personally. He now had a system that worked and was able to take breaks, more comfortable with the multitasking that went on in his mind.

Looking around his cave you would see that it had been expanded, the ceiling growing further away and the room itself was slightly larger. The pool that once lay in a corner of the cave now stretched the length of an entire wall, it was eerily still and never rippled when a butterfly dived into it. He had sectioned off a small portion of the cave with some standing dividers, allowing him to have an area to relax in, sleep and maybe eat something, even though he no longer needed to. The butterflies still flew about the place, with the soul filled ones providing most of the light in the cave as they flew high amongst the stalactites and near the pool. The empty butterflies flew amongst them, but lacked the energy the coloured ones showed.

The main change to the cave was that there was a large globe that he had made and linked to his powers hovering in the centre of the cave. It glowed overall with soft light but showed different colours on the land masses as it slowly turned. Even though he was able to know where the butterflies needed to be sent, there were times when there was a sudden increase of deaths. Due to these large amounts, he needed to know more information on where these deaths were without overloading his brain with the information as well as continue with the normal death rates in his head. As he was connected with all the butterflies, filled and empty, he was able to direct them to places with but a thought. Normally this would be sorted automatically with his magic, so when there was an increase of death from its normal baseline, more information was needed for him to sort it out actively. This was where the globe came in as the colours shown on the continents changed from shades of green to yellow then red, depending on the amount of deaths.

Even though his butterflies were able to be sent without him, there were times when he needed to take the soul personally. He never understood why these people needed more magic and his presence than others. The soul butterflies that came from them didn’t look too different, only that their wings were outlined in silver and they seemed to hang around the cave much longer than any of the other butterflies before diving into the pool. He couldn’t see what had made their souls different to the others. It had taken a while for him to work up the courage to stay after collecting and investigate their life briefly, he was curious about their difference.

It took a while for Harry to notice, but the silver edged butterflies always grouped near him when he was in the cave, seeming to gain energy by being near him and prolonging the time they were around before having to pass on. Eventually, he started to bring them with him on jobs. When he did this, he noticed that it was easier for the soul to leave the body and that the loved ones were always able to grieve properly and let them pass.

There were times when the loved ones refused to let the dead pass on. He received an extra nudge if he arrived when this was about to happen. The souls that he collected on these jobs were always trapped in a cage of dark strings tethered to the ones who refused to let them go, the energy they released unable to reach them. It was on these jobs that he began to appreciate the silver wings more as they were able to quickly cut through the strings in large numbers, whereas he had had to do it manually. (He was lazy ok? It took a long time!) Once the soul was free, the normal process was able to continue as if they had never been trapped, allowing the loved one to move on.

Unfortunately, Harry was unable to notice when his presence was needed for the trapped souls all of the time. He knew that this was true as on his rare outings to the world he often saw people with tethered souls attached to them. Once he noticed this, he realised that he would need to leave his haven more often in order to free the trapped souls. This was when he realised that he couldn’t be seen, even when not on a job.

Harry didn’t mind this to begin with, he had become much more solitary since the magical world had turned their back on him. But eventually he began to grow lonely again, the butterflies unable to speak with him as he did to them. His job was unable to hold his attention as it once had since he had discovered most of his powers.

It was on one of his trips outside his cave that things started to change.


	5. Chapter 4

It was a generically normal day in a normal everyday village. People were walking down streets chatting to each other. There were birds in the sky, dogs barking and small children making a general nuisance of themselves. There was also a Master of Death spirit muttering angrily at himself sitting on the roof of one of the houses.

“How was I supposed to know the woman was pregnant? It’s not like she was showing or anything. No need to liquefy my brain you stupid magic.”

The day hadn’t started off very well for Harry. As he had soon found out, trying to stop a butterfly from doing their job was an extremely painful thing to do, but he had been rightfully confused when two empty butterflies had tried to enter the body. After the painful message and fixing the problem he had exited the building, more depressed than normal as this had been the first time he had been present for the death of a child.

Eventually, he got over the headache and decided to go explore the village a little.

It seemed like the world he had been spat out into was much younger than the one he had left. People where still living in huts and there was no machinery of any kind, they were still living off the land. Harry had never really been one for history, so seeing all the differences and knowing the changes to come interested him quite a bit.

As he walked through the village Harry came across a group of four children playing in the street and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness in his heart. He had never had that sort of fun filled childhood and it was a longing he still carried. Smiling sadly he carried on walking but noticed a boy sitting on a nearby rock, watching the kids play with a familiar look of longing on his face. Harry ended up drifting towards him, unable to stop himself, trying to bring comfort with company, even if he couldn’t be seen.

Nearing the child, he could see that the boy was around ten years old but was rather thin and sickly. Quickly glancing back at the other children, Harry took note on their appearance. As they looked to be normal and healthy he discarded the thought that the village was having a hard time food wise. The clothes that all the children wore fit them well and looked well cared for, even the sickly child’s. This coupled with the fact that he felt drawn to the boy set off an uneasy pang in his heart and Harry dearly hoped that he was wrong. Lost in his morbid thoughts, he didn’t realise that he had managed to walk right up to the boy and was now sat next to him on the rock.

After a while, he took note of his surroundings again and saw that the children who had been playing were now nowhere to be seen. It seemed like he had been lost in thought for quite a while. Harry quickly glanced to his side to see if the sickly child had stayed, berating himself for letting his guard down, even if he had no hunters in this world. Seeing the child looking at him he relaxed, comforted in the fact that he hadn’t been so far gone as to not notice someone next to him leaving.

It was a few moments before what he had just seen penetrated his thoughts.

Quickly turning back to the kid he saw that he was still looking at him, with a very confused look in his eyes.

Harry’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help himself; he waved his hand slowly in front of the kids face and watched in awe as the eyes followed his hand before darting back to his face even more confused than before.

“Mister?”

Seeing and hearing that his presence had been noted after coming to grips with the fact that he thought he wouldn’t ever be was quite a shock to his system. Meaning that his brain crashed and that he gaped like a fish at the kid.

In proving this, Harry blurted out a very sensible sentence according to his state of mind.

“Y-you can see me?”

He succeeded in confusing the poor child even further and gained a queer look for his troubles.

“Ye-es, you _are_ sitting right next to me, it’s not like you’re hiding.”

As they stared at one another, several things started to add together in Harry’s mind.

He felt a pull towards the kid. The kid could see him. His purpose in this world was as the Master of Death.

He felt his heart being crushed in the grips of a vice.

How was he going to tell this child looking at him with such innocent eyes that had been so much like his own when he was young?

The kid probably knew that there was something wrong with him, that he wasn’t healthy like the other kids.

But how do you tell a kid that they were going to die soon?

That you had been drawn to him because you were going to take his soul?


	6. Chapter 5

After a brief pause, Harry decided to deal with the situation in a manner not entirely new to him. He decided to ignore it.

“Soooo I'm Harry! What’s your name?”

There was a brief pause where he was almost overcome with the urge to smack himself in the face for his overly cheerful statement. It really didn’t look like the kid thought he was all there in the head.

“I'm Eric.”

As the kid replied, Harry saw himself being looked over, the look on the kids face getting even more confused as time went on.

“You’re wearing really weird clothes. Where'd you get it from?”

Looking down at himself and then at the kid Harry realised that what he was wearing looked really out of place in the time period he was in. Scrambling for something to say, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“It’s my uniform.”

His feeling of satisfaction in a believable lie was cut off when he heard Eric’s reply.

“It’s still strange looking. What’s the uniform for then?”

He went to expand on his lie when he was caught in the kid’s ridiculously large innocent looking eyes. Harry couldn't lie to him, not when he was going to be collecting his soul in the near future, the kid really didn't deserve it. Instead, he was going to reply as truthfully as he could without actually mentioning his job.

“I'm a guide.”

A look of fascination spread across Eric’s face.

“Really? That’s so cool! I've only ever stayed in the village, never even been to the next one. I've always wanted to travel, what’s it like?”

And so the conversation went. With him rambling in a slightly overly cheerful manner, trying to bring some joy to the child as he firmly berated himself for getting even slightly close to someone he knew would leave him. Harry ended up spending the rest of the evening with Eric, describing places and telling stories, delighting when he would laugh and the tired look would leave his face.

It was in the middle of one of his stories when Eric started to cough. He started and wouldn't stop. The dark sadness that Harry had been ignoring rushed back with a vengence.

He knew that he couldn't stop what was coming. He could feel that it would be soon. But that didn't stop him from trying to sooth the child. It was what he had been told he was here for. Sure this was the first time he had met the to be dead before the actual death and soul collection part, but that didn't mean he should just ignore him.

Grabbing him, Harry brought him close to his chest, trying to comfort him and aid his breathing somehow. After a moment where the coughing still continued he sent some of his magic into Eric, using it on a live being for the first time since entering this world.

It was with a great sense of relief that it actually seemed to help and Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. The happiness of being useful to someone still present from his miserable childhood. The smile didn't last long though, as the look on Eric's face gave way to what the child knew was coming.

There was a brief moment where they just stared at one another. Eric knew that something had helped with his cough. It had been one of his worse episodes yet and felt like it was never going to stop. He had been so scared that it had finally been his time to go and none of his family had been with him. He had been alone. But then the weird guy - Harry - had brought him onto his lap and tried to help, then the pain in his lungs seemed to disappear.

"You're not ... normal ... are you?"

Despite the plethora of ways he could take that statement, Harry could feel that this wasn't the time for it.

"No Eric, I'm not."

He couldn't help the tone and look of sadness that overtook him as he uttered his reply. He had gotten attached to Eric in the brief time he had known him. He knew that he was too caring, he couldn't help it. The fact that it was a child made it a hundred times worse.

The fear that had momentarily disappeared from Eric's eyes started to come back as he comprehended the situation.

"You ... you're going to take me away? ... It's soon?"

The fear that he could see in Eric's eyes, the fear of him grew. Unable to stand it, Harry comforted him as best he could, drawing him closer in a hug before staring back into his eyes. He had to do something. It was in his nature, it was who he was, he needed to help this person who was looking at him in such need.

"I'm a guide Eric. I'm your guide. Please don't be afraid, don't be afraid of me. I'm here. I'm so sorry I can't stop it but I'm here with you. You wont be alone, there's nothing to be scared of."

They did nothing but stare at one another for a moment as Eric calmed himself enough to try and understand what Harry had just said. He could feel himself getting even worse with every breath, much quicker than he ever had before. He knew that the only reason he wasn't coughing or in pain was because of the strange person he was sitting on. Looking into his eyes, Eric could see that he was genuinely shaken for him, he could tell that he really did want to help, even if that help wasn't the thing that he really wanted right now, to get better.

"You...you can't stop it? Can you stop it?"

Even knowing that this question was bound to come up didn't make hearing it come out of the young mouth any easier. The pause that occurred as he tried to think of an answer was answer enough, causing a sharp pang in his heart at the sudden resignation in Eric's eyes. He gathered him in closer into his arms and tried to sooth the child as much as he knew how.

"I'm here Eric. Don't be afraid. I'm here just for you. I'm sorry, so sorry that I can't make things better for you. All I can do is help make things easier. I promise that it won't hurt, there's nothing to be scared of."

He almost couldn't bear the dejection that he could feel coming from the small child in his arms. He was at a loss as to what he should do. He didn't actually know what happened to the souls after they dived into the pool, meaning that he couldn't truthfully reassure Eric that there was nothing to be worried about.

Harry sat there, his thoughts spiraling into a frenzy as he held Eric. He could feel the child relaxing further into him and knew that the time was drawing to a close, his powers rising up within him for that familiar burst of magic to form one of those empty butterflies. With heavy heart, Harry looked up from his precious cargo and at the butterfly hovering in front of them.

Feeling Harry look up, Eric slowly moved his head from his position directly on his heart and stared in wonder at the insect. He reached out in awe, allowing the butterfly to land on one of his fingers, causing it to flash brightly in different colours before becoming colourless again. His face cleared of the slight lingering pain that he could still feel despite Harry's help. The scary thoughts in his head suddenly seemed unimportant, the haunting fear that he had been living with since he understood his condition was gone.

"It looks so beautiful, so many colours."

Cupping the butterfly close to his chest, Eric knew that his time had come. But as he looked back at Harry, he could see that even though this was what was meant to happen, that this was right, Harry would still be heart broken for him, the little boy he met and knew for not even a day. Turning, he cuddled closer into his chest and smiled up at Harry before closing his eyes.

"Thanks for being here Harry. It's not scary."

Harry's heart felt ready to explode with the many emotions currently trying to escape him, he couldn't do anything but hold Eric closer, too choked up for words. He just sat there giving comfort to the child as he saw the butterfly start to fill in and the body in his arms start to still. He felt pleased that Eric went with him, completely fearless, relaxed and even happy, but lingering feelings of regret and sadness still stayed as he saw the butterfly finally take flight.


End file.
